


the holiest thing i know

by orphan_account



Series: fifty words for murder (and i'm every one of them) [7]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>his eyes are still lifeless and hazy when tyler moves his up to meet his gaze.</p><p>
  <i>look at the mess you've made<br/>now all i do is feel afraid</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the holiest thing i know

infection.

his stitches are infected.

quiet.

he can’t talk.

they’ve been through this before.

when tyler first brought him home, he was a screamer. he’d locked him in the basement, for the first few weeks, and he’d screamed for hours on end; screamed so loud, screamed so often that he’d damaged his vocal cords.

they never fully recovered, mostly because tyler didn’t know what to do for him. usually, the screamers wore themselves out, and if they damaged their own vocal cords, it wouldn’t matter. they were going to end up dismembered in the woods, anyways, what good would a voice be to them?

but josh was different, and tyler didn’t know how to fix damaged vocal cords.

he’d searched it up, and he’d found home remedies, but josh had screamed himself beyond repair. no matter how many drinks he fixed or how many exercises he tried with josh, when he started cooperating, they weren’t going to be fixed.

his voice is always raspy, now, always with a hoarse edge. it’s so attractive to tyler, especially when he’s moaning; it does something for him, the scratchy crackling tone of his whining and wailing when he’s fucking into him.

maybe this time, he’ll have torn them, and tyler won’t ever have to hear him speak again.

that’s a blessing. if josh would just be fucking silent, instead of his endless babbling, it would be a blessing.

but no talking means no moaning, and no moaning means that tyler finds him less appealing.

and if tyler finds him less appealing, he’s virtually worthless. he’d have to kill him, and go through all of the stages of finding a new pet, training and breaking them in; he doesn’t want to do that. he likes his pet just fine, and he’s unwilling to go through everything again.

especially if he finds another that’s just as bratty as josh is.

something tells tyler josh isn’t going to be so bratty anymore.

four days in the basement can do that to you.

truth be told, tyler’s beginning to miss his voice. he’s so quiet, all the time, now; his eyes are so dull, so hollow. even on the second day of bringing him back upstairs, tyler had fucked him soft and slow, but his eyes hadn’t changed. they’d remained so empty, so lifeless, as he twitched and writhed underneath tyler’s hands, completely silent. composed.

sure, his mouth had fallen open and he’d drooled all over himself in all the ways tyler liked, but it wasn’t the same. he’d tilted his head back and he’d _tried_ to moan, to let something out, but all that he could get out was a tiny little gasp. judging by the way he’d winced afterwards, tyler knew it hurt him something awful.

he had to fix this.

“here, joshie, drink this.” another useless fucking home remedy, but he wasn’t giving up. he’s curled up on the couch, back pressed firm against the back; his stitches don’t hurt anymore, infection or not. he’s numbed to the pain and he’s so hollow; his empty gaze tracks tyler as he approaches, eyes narrowing when they land on the cup in his hand.

the drinks sting on the way down. he still holds his hand out like a good pet and takes it into his palm, and he looks down into the murky surface for a second. he doesn’t want to piss tyler off, not on their break weeks.

it’s easier to obey when he can’t object.

he sips from his cup, winces when it burns more than the rest of him. he drains it as soon as the eventual pain subsides and fades, leaving a weak, aching sting in its wake; he holds the cup back out and tyler takes it, moves back toward the kitchen.

he’s back in less than ten seconds; he stands before josh and cups his jaw in his palm, rolling his thumb over his bottom lip. there’s a pout affixed to his lips when he mumbles, “i’m sorry.”

it’s a rare occurrence when tyler is apologetic.

josh knows he doesn’t mean it.

he’s just trying to assuage his own guilt.

but he nods anyways, tilts his head into tyler’s palm. tyler retracts his hand, sinks to his knees.

his hands, bruised and scarred, curve around josh’s thighs; his cock twitches with interest, and he spreads his legs open further as tyler slides between them.

he pops open the button on josh’s jeans, drags down his zipper; he feels every tooth slide down, gut rolling at the sound it makes.

“hard already?” tyler questions; he’s biting back a smirk as he snakes his hand into the front of his jeans, cupping him through his boxers. it’s not even surprising how quickly josh gets hard anymore. “such a slut, joshie.”

josh smiles, cards his fingers through tyler’s hair and strokes lovingly as tyler palms him; he only lets out a low grunt as tyler shuffles his jeans down some, waistband digging into the meat of his thighs.

his boxers follow, pulled down just enough to release his cock from its confinement; his movements are slow and calculating as his fingers trace a white scar on his hipbone, other hand resting on his knee.

usually, he’d make josh beg for him to touch him. but words are essentially useless and he takes his hand away from his hip to wrap around his base, pumping once in a short, dry movement.

pre-come beads at josh’s tip and tyler dips his head, laps it up into his mouth; josh’s fingers tighten in his hair. his tongue slides expertly around the head, sucking him past cherry red, plump lips.

he pops up enough to press a kiss to the tip and drag his tongue up the underside; his eyes are still lifeless and hazy when tyler moves his up to meet his gaze, and he frowns slightly when he slides his tongue over his slit.

he huffs, blows air over his tip, and josh’s hips raise up just ever so slightly.

his fingers are tight, wrapped in tyler’s hair, when he slides his lips down and bobs his head down the first half of his cock. up and down, up and down, swallow around the head; his movements are near mechanical, but josh doesn’t care, bucking his hips up into the wet heat of tyler’s mouth.

up and down, take him down until the head of his dick hits the back of his throat. swallow.

josh grunts, yanks on his hair. tyler allows him to pull him up to his head and push him back down; he relaxes his jaw, lets his eyes flutter shut as josh’s hips bury his cock further into his mouth. he adds a bit of teeth, drags them along the underside because he wants to hear a moan, but he’s greeted with silence.

he opens his eyes, and they water slightly as josh grinds up into his mouth, head nudging the back of his throat; his eyes are closed, lips parted and he’s gasping, chest heaving.

his hand yanks up again, and tyler follows. josh forces him up, down, up, down, hips twitching sporadically until he lets out a low gasp and he’s spilling, hot and fast, where his cock is pressed into the very back of tyler’s mouth.

tyler sighs, swallows down every last bit of come as it hits his tongue and spills down his throat in hot streams; he pops up a second later, licking his lips with narrowed eyes.

josh smiles at him lazily, tilts his head forward where it’s been leaned against the back of the couch. he’s thanking him with his eyes; tyler manages a smile as he tucks him back into his boxes, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"you're welcome, joshie."

he better get his voice back soon or tyler's going to gut him like a fish.


End file.
